


Against the World

by johnlockpls (ironstrangepls)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Blow Jobs, Declarations Of Love, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post S4
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-07
Updated: 2018-09-07
Packaged: 2019-07-08 04:04:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15922490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironstrangepls/pseuds/johnlockpls
Summary: It has been a few months since the Eurus incident, and things are recovering - slowly. John moved back in with Rosie after deciding the loneliness was too much to bear. Sherlock welcomed him with open arms and a large heart. However, there are times where Sherlock will flinch if John makes a sudden movement, and John’s heart will sink at the reaction. Sadness usually wells in his eyes as he presses a reaffirming touch to Sherlock’s shoulder in a silent apology. There are times where Sherlock will lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, silently wishing that the two could go back to the days pre-Sherlock’s “death,” where it was just the two of them against the world.





	Against the World

**Author's Note:**

> My first work for the Sherlock fandom! :)

Light flutters through the opaque curtains of the flat, dimly lighting up the room. A jumble of baby sounds echos against the walls, and the corners of Sherlock’s mouth lifts in a small smile as he glances sideways from his newspaper to see his friend gently coo the baby. He studies the way John crinkles his nose in delight as the baby reaches out to grab his facial features. He takes note of the way John laughs as the baby grabs his nose, and memorizes the smile that’s wide and beaming. John looks over and catches his eye, and they both share a smile.

 

It has been a few months since the Eurus incident, and things are recovering -  _ slowly _ . John moved back in with Rosie after deciding the loneliness was too much to bear. Sherlock welcomed him with open arms and a large heart. However, there are times where Sherlock will flinch if John makes a sudden movement, and John’s heart will sink at the reaction. Sadness usually wells in his eyes as he presses a reaffirming touch to Sherlock’s shoulder in a silent apology. There are times where Sherlock will lay awake in his bed, staring at the ceiling, silently wishing that the two could go back to the days pre-Sherlock’s “death,” where it was just the two of them against the world.

 

Sherlock doesn’t blame John for the way he snapped that one day. It was gruesome, absolutely, but Sherlock doesn’t blame him - a perfectly natural reaction for someone like John - who had suffered tremendous loss and betrayal. His own emotions had been skewed and his perception was faulty when Mary had died - pathos stood in the way of logos. 

 

John blames himself, and he finds himself staring at Sherlock with a sad glimmer in his eyes, feeling as though he let him down. Those small smiles that the two of them share, usually involving little Rosie, are surprisingly reassuring, letting them both know that peace is coming and that soon, all will be tranquil. At least between the two of them.

 

Sherlock breaks the eye contact and stares back down at the newspaper in hand, wrinkling the paper as he changes the page. It makes a loud noise that Rosie is somehow drawn to, and she reaches out a tiny hand towards the paper. John notices and walks towards Sherlock, until her hand grasps the paper, her eyes lighting up as the paper crumbles beneath her gripping hand. Sherlock raises an eyebrow as he shifts his eyes towards the baby, following the arm all the way up to meet John’s beaming eyes.

 

“Sorry, Rosie likes the noise of the paper.” John chuckles slightly, and with a tiny yank, Rose rips a little piece of the newspaper off, tossing it to the ground, babbling. “Rosie! Come on.” John sighs as he bends down to pick up the stray piece of paper.

 

“It’s alright, John,” Sherlock reassures. “Whatever she ripped off wasn’t important. In fact,” Sherlock tears the paper in half, handing a page to Rosie, who gleefully shrieked. “Enjoy, little baby.”

 

John beams at the gesture, and gently bounces the baby in his arms as she happily tears up the paper, dropping pieces onto the floor. “You’re making a mess,” John kisses Rosie’s forehead. “But you’re so bloody precious, I can allow it.”

 

“You’re cleaning it up.” Sherlock snorts, a hint of amusement in his tone. 

 

“Of course, I always do the bloody cleaning around here.” John shoots back, and Sherlock presses his lips together in a smile. “Say, Sherlock, do you have a case or something? I figure we could do something - and maybe we could do a case. You know I always enjoy those.”

 

Sherlock shakes his head, standing up from his chair, stretching and yawning. He has on a loose pair of pyjamas combined with his silk dressing gown, the perfect outfit for a lazy morning. “I was unable to find one suitable for my interests. Sorry to disappoint you.”

 

“Oh, well,” John fails to hide the slight disappointment in his voice. “Is there anything else you’d care to do today?”

 

“Park!” Rosie babbles, lifting her arms up and letting whatever is left of the newspaper fall to the floor. “Park! Park! Park!”

 

“I think someone wants to go to the park.” Sherlock lets out a noise of amusement as he stares at the baby. “We can do that.”

 

“Sure, if you wouldn’t mind holding her, I can go get the stroller and stuff ready.”

 

“Okay,” Sherlock reaches his arms out as John hands him Rosie. She squeals and grabs two handfuls of dark curls. “Yes, I know, my hair is absolutely delightful, especially to small children.” Rosie gleefully tugs at the hair, causing Sherlock to wince slightly. “Ow.”

 

“Rosie!” John scolds, reaching up to pull Sherlock’s hair out of his daughter’s tight fists. “Don’t pull his hair like that!”

 

“S’lock! Air!” Rosie says, pointing towards the messy hair. “S’lock! Air!”

 

Sherlock chuckles and nods. “That’s right. Sherlock’s hair.”

 

John smiles as he walks upstairs into the other room to grab some stuff for their walk. Surprisingly, Sherlock is absolutely amazing with Rosie - it was a real sight to see him interact with her. She adores him and loves to be read stories, and Sherlock is quite a natural with her. It’s such a contrast to his overall personality, but John finds that contrast to be one of the greatest things about the detective. 

 

John grabs a bag from his room and puts in a few baby items: diapers, baby wipes, some toys, and a binkie. Out of the closet, he pulls out a folded up stroller as he slings the bag over his shoulder. He carefully trudges down the stairs with the stroller in hand, and his face brightens as he catches a glimpse of Sherlock kissing Rosie’s forehead. He notices how Sherlock changed into regular clothes and even had his belstaff on. Sherlock glances up, his face blushing slightly.

 

“You really are a natural at this,” John tells him as they walk through the door, going down the stairs.

 

“A natural at what?” Sherlock questions, his eyebrow arching. “Dealing with small children?”

 

“S’lock!” Rosie shrieks happily. John lets out a laugh as he nods.

 

“Yes, despite your seemingly cold appearance, you definitely have a soft spot for this child.” John smirks, opening the door and unfolding the stroller outside. He takes Rosie from Sherlock and straps her in.

 

“She is precious. I don’t see any reason for me to be cold towards her.” Sherlock simply states, shrugging. “Though I don’t appreciate you calling me a ‘softie.’”

 

“Oh, don’t even start.” John pushes the stroller and they begin walking towards the park. “You are a softie. Deep inside, at least. I’ve seen that side of you, don’t even lie.”

 

“Perhaps you might be right,” Sherlock grumbles, sticking his hands into his pockets. “Though I don’t think I could ever be cold to her.”

 

“She really adores you,” John smiles softly. “While your gone, she usually chants ‘S’lock’ over and over again.”

 

“Well,” Sherlock shrugs. “I adore her as well.”

 

The day is beautiful - a rare sight in London. The sun shines pleasantly, and the temperature is mild with a slight breeze. Two girls, a brunette and a blonde, walk towards the two men and baby. They stop to coo over the baby.

 

“Aww, she’s so cute! How old is she?” The brunette asks, beaming at the child. John straightens his posture, Sherlock notices, probably to impress the brunette. John probably finds her attractive, but Sherlock knows it’s ineffective.

 

“She’s two and a half. Her name is Rosie.” John responds, flashing a brilliant smile towards the brunette.

 

“She’s adorable! What a precious princess!” The blonde squeals, and she straightens up to ask John. “How long have you two been together?”

 

Sherlock smiles - two men walking with a baby, it’s an assumption he knew the girls were going to make. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees John turn pale, probably embarrassed. 

 

“Oh, we… we aren’t together.” John sputters, and the blonde covers her mouth and blushes in embarrassment.

 

“Oh god, oh, I’m  _ so _ sorry, gosh,” she glances down and rubs the back of her head. 

 

“It’s uh,” John shrugs. “It’s a common mistake people make.”

 

“We’re used to it.” Sherlock mutters, and John shoots him a glance as he nods.

 

“Yeah, don’t worry.” John shoots another smile towards the girls.

 

“Well,” the brunette begins. “It was really nice to meet you two, and the little princess, but we best be on our way. Enjoy the day, boys.” They walk past them, whispering and giggling.

 

“I’m surprised you didn’t say you weren’t gay.” Sherlock smirks at the man next to him, who starts to push the stroller again. John shrugs and rolls his eyes.

 

“Why bother anymore?”

 

“Considering you were attracted to that brunette girl, I thought maybe you would reassure her that you are, in fact, not homosexual. Instead you only reassured her that you were not in a relationship with me.”

 

“Because I, in fact, made a deduction, and decided that it would not be worth it,” John mutters. “I can make those too, you know.”

 

“And that deduction would be?”

 

“Well, considering she originally thought that we were together, and I said that we weren't, she probably assumed that because I had a daughter, that I was with someone else. My hands were covered by the stroller, which blocked her view of my hand, so she was unable to see that I didn’t have a ring. So, she didn’t bother wanting to embarrass herself like her friend did.”

 

Sherlock cocks an eyebrow. “That’s pretty good, though I have a simpler explanation.”

 

“Which is?”

 

“They were lesbians.”

 

John hangs his head down and lets out a loud laugh. “God damnit, Sherlock.”

 

Sherlock can’t help himself and chuckles - John’s laughter is contagious.

 

\----------------- 

 

“Really Sherlock?” John bursts through the door, baby in arms, his face red with anger. “You just  _ had _ to make a scene like that?”

 

Sherlock follows him through, holding the folded up stroller and closing the door behind him. “Yes, it was absolutely necessary.”

 

Rosie is sobbing, and John gently bounces her, cooing her. “You couldn’t hold back? It was a beautiful day to just be in the park, and of bloody  _ course _ you had to pick a fight with another family.”

 

“That child pushed your daughter!” Sherlock leans the stroller against the wall, taking off his Belstaff and hanging it up. “The parents need to teach him some manners!”

 

“So you just completely embarrass them by exposing the man’s extra-marital affair? That’s just inappropriate and  _ none of your business! _ ” 

 

“I figured the woman would appreciate to know of her husband’s infidelity.” Sherlock answers in a dry tone, clearly bored of the argument. “And besides, I thought you’d be more appreciative of me standing up for  _ your _ child.”

 

John huffs, placing his daughter down in her high chair. “Yes, Sherlock, I appreciate you standing up for my two year old, but how you handled yourself was completely inappropriate! God, you’re such an arse sometimes!”

 

Rosie begins crying again, and John sighs. “If we are going to argue, I better bring her downstairs to Mrs. Hudson.” He picks her up and walks past Sherlock.

 

“Who says we need to argue?”

 

“ _ Me. _ ” John answers sharply. “We aren’t finished yet.” John disappears down the stairs. Sherlock rubs his temples as he sits down in his chair. He hears John’s stomping footsteps approaching before his figure appears and shuts the door behind him.

 

“You are angry,” Sherlock states.

 

“Really?” John crosses his arms as he stands in front of Sherlock. “I thought I was prancin’ like silly old school gal!”

 

Sherlock blinks, his face remains unchanged and bored of the argument. “John, there’s no need for this. It’s nothing but a petty argument.”

 

“A much needed petty argument!” John exhales and rubs his head. “Considering you’re a thick git who never learns his lesson! You completely embarrassed that poor woman  _ and  _ myself, and Rosie ended up crying because we were arguing at each other. Do you ever think about anyone but  _ yourself? _ ”

 

Sherlock narrows his eyes, glaring at John. He presses his lips into a firm line, keeping his mouth shut and not saying a word. John returns the stare with an equal amount of intensity, crossing his arms once more. 

 

“I think about you.” Sherlock speaks after a few minutes, his voice monotone. John pauses, his face turning slightly red, before shaking his head. Sherlock makes a mental note.

 

“Well you obviously didn’t before!” John throw his hands up in the air as he walks to the kitchen. 

 

“I thought,” Sherlock remains seated. “I thought maybe you would appreciate me helping your daughter. I’m sorry if I handled it in a way you didn’t want me to.”

 

John turns and looks at Sherlock, who is glancing down at his fingers, twiddling his thumbs. John cocks an eyebrow - is that a hint of  _ guilt _ on Sherlock’s face? He sighs, walking back towards the detective. “Of course I appreciate it, I just-” he pauses, trying to find the right words. “I just wish you could have not caused a scene like that.”

 

“I thought it was absolutely hilarious.” Sherlock grins, flashing a smile that causes John’s heart to flutter. 

 

“Hmph,” John grunts. “Maybe it was a tad hilarious, but still not appropriate.”

 

Sherlock’s smile fades, and the two are once again sharing a stare down, blue eyes on blue. John studies the way Sherlock’s eyes appear a grey in the dim light of the flat, while Sherlock takes notice of the fact that John’s pupils are dilating. The corners of his mouth lift - interesting. Sherlock reaches out and grabs John’s hand, and John flushes.

 

“Wh-what-” he sputters. “What are you doing?”

 

“You were staring into my eyes, and your pupils dilated.” Sherlock leans forward and shifts his hand upwards, placing two fingers on the inside of John’s wrist. “Your heart rate is elevated, and you are clearly flushed. When I said that I thought about you, you turned a brief shade of pink. When the blonde woman asked about our relationship, you became flustered. I had assumed that was because you were attracted to her, but after learning that you already deduced she wasn’t into you, it made me wonder if that fluster was because you actually wanted to be together with me.”

 

John pulls his hand away. “What are you trying to say?”

 

“I do think about you,” Sherlock leans back into his chair. “I think about you a lot, actually, and clearly, you think about me too. Tell me John, what are we doing, dancing around our feelings like we’re teenagers?”

 

John bites his lip, glancing down as he rubs the back of his head. “Only you can turn an argument into this conversation.”

 

“I only observe, John. I’m tired of dancing around.”

 

“Sherlock…” John shakes his head. “I don’t know, I don’t think-” he gulps and turns around. “I don’t think I deserve someone like you. After what I did to you?”

 

“You were angry, John, your mind misconstrued the events, it happens during an emotional crisis. Remember Redbeard and Victor Trevor? I completely changed everything, my emotions masked what actually happened.”

 

“I  _ hurt _ you.”

 

“I hurt you first,” Sherlock simply states. “When I faked my own death.”

 

John says nothing and looks down.

 

“John…”

 

“Sherlock, no, it’s… it’s different. I punched you, I hurt you  _ physically _ . I can’t ever forgive myself for that.” John’s voice trembles and he swallows.

 

Sherlock reaches out again and grabs John’s wrist, pulling it slightly to turn him around. He stands up and cups John’s face, leaning in to press a kiss to the other man’s lips. John’s eyes widen in surprise, but soon finds himself easing into the kiss, his hands finding the detective arms. Sherlock pulls away, dropping his hands.

 

“I forgive you.” Sherlock tells the doctor. “I forgave you as soon as it happened. You may not forgive yourself, but I forgive you.”

 

John’s lips press in a thin line, trying to hold back tears. He wraps his arms around the taller man and closes the gap between them once more, kissing with an utter passion that has built up for years. Sherlock’s tongue swipes across John’s bottom lip and John accepts, whimpering slightly at the sudden feeling of french kissing Sherlock. Sherlock’s grip on John’s waist tightens as he pulls him closer, bringing their bodies together. There’s a slight friction as they rub together, and a moan escapes John’s lips as he felt his arousal growing. He pushes himself away, a dazed look plastered on his face,

 

“Hold on, hold on, woah.” John takes several deep breaths. “I - what is happening?”

 

“We were kissing, and you, I believe you got aroused,” Sherlock shrugs. “Perfectly normal, I’m a little aroused myself-”

 

“Hold on, this is wild-“ John shakes his head as if he waking himself up from a dream. “Are we about to do this?”

 

Sherlock shrugs once more. “Only if you consent. I very much want it.”

 

“But I thought you…” The doctor gulped. “I thought you...didn’t...like this sort of thing.”

 

“Ah, a misconception.” Sherlock smiled, pulling John closer by his trousers. “I simply didn’t put it as a priority. Now that I know you-“ he presses his thigh against the growing bulge in John’s trousers, causing the other man to whimper. “-might actually want to do this, I, for one, will definitely make this a priority.”

 

“Oh god,” John’s lips immediately find Sherlock’s neck. “Oh god yes. You caused my sexuality crisis. Of course I want you.”

 

“I tend to do that to people.” Sherlock mutters, gently moving his thigh across John’s hardness. John bites a hickey into Sherlock’s neck in response, and his eyes flutter. John pushes Sherlock down into the chair and straddles him, putting his hand on Sherlock’s blushing face. He slowly swipes his thumb across the cupid-bow lips that he has memorized. With a teasing smirk, John rocks his hips forward, grinding against Sherlock’s growing erection. The detective throws his head back in ecstasy, as he grabs the beginnings of John’s arse. 

 

John stops moving and begins to peel off his shirt, staring down Sherlock as he did so. Sherlock watches with a hunger in his eyes, licking his lips as he watches the shorter man shrug his shirt off of his shoulders. He feels the stare of Sherlock on his shoulder, those daring blues charting every indent. Sherlock leans in and presses his lips against the scar, sending a shudder to pass through John’s spine. John’s fingers thread through Sherlock’s hair as his tongue traces the edges of John’s scar, and Sherlock hisses at the sudden pull. John pulls Sherlock’s head back.

 

“You like it when I pull your hair?”

 

Sherlock swallows, his eyes lustful and arousing. “Yes. I like it when you do a lot of things.”

 

“Care to share with the class, Holmes?” John grinds against the other again, and Sherlock hisses in pleasure.

 

“Like it when you deduce something and it’s correct,” Sherlock mumbles, bucking his hips upwards to resume motion. John bites his lip to suppress a moan. “It’s so hot when you’re right about something.”

 

“Shame that happens so rarely.” 

 

“Oh but when it does, it leaves me fluttering in arousal. God John, no one has ever been able to turn me on as much as you do.” 

 

John smirks and locks his lips with the detective’s. It’s messy, with teeth clashing and tongues wild, but it’s  _ heavenly _ . He lives for the little moans that escape Sherlock’s mouth, each one sending blood straight to his already swollen erection. Without breaking the kiss, John pops each of Sherlock’s buttons, before having him lean forward and slide the shirt off, exposing his chest.

 

John breaks the kiss to suck on his neck, leaving little love bites along the way down to his collarbone. He continues along his pathway, stopping at the circular scar that protrudes on Sherlock. “God, Sherlock, I’m so,  _ so fucking sorry _ -“

 

“Don’t. Don’t apologize. You didn’t know.” 

 

John is silent, but he presses another kiss to Sherlock’s scar, causing his breath to hitch. John’s fingers tease up Sherlock’s leg as his kisses trail downwards, stopping at the waistband of his trousers. He glances up at Sherlock, making eye contact, and he noticed how dilated Sherlock’s pupils are. His lips are swollen and puffy, his face flushed, he looks  _ magnificent _ . 

 

John presses his palm against Sherlock’s hardness, who whimpers at the touch. “Sherlock?”

 

“Yes, John?” His breathing is heavy, and John smirks as he increases the pressure.

 

“Ever had a blowjob?”

 

“No.”

 

“Well,” John unzips Sherlock’s trousers and unbuttons them, pushing them down. He reaches in and pulls out Sherlock’s cock, who trembles under the sudden touch. “Today is your lucky day.”

 

John is on his knees at this point, and he licks a stripe from base to tip. Sherlock gasps as John’s tongue teases his slit, and he finds himself gripping the arms of the chair, his knuckles turning white. 

 

John feels his own heart race - it has been years since he’s put a cock in his mouth. But Sherlock tastes  _ so bloody good, _ and John wants nothing more than to just swallow it whole. 

 

And he does just that.

 

Relaxing his throat and clenching his fist, he engulfs the entire length of Sherlock, and the sound that the man makes is almost enough to send John over the edge without touch. 

 

“Oh, fuck!” Sherlock cries out in pleasure at the sudden heat of John’s mouth. It is an unusual sensation, one he had never experienced before. Sherlock’s breathing hitches as John bobs his head, the eye contact he maintains is wondrously arousing. John’s mouth releases his cock with a pop and he smiles, using his hand to slowly rub up and down the length of his shaft. He gets up off of his knees and kisses Sherlock, hot and passionate and filled with lust. “You’re amazing,” Sherlock mumbles against his lips.

 

“Everything about you is just gorgeous.” John breathes, his hand still working Sherlock’s cock. Sherlock groans and grasps John’s wrists, stopping him.

 

“H-hold on,” Sherlock sputters. “I want to experience this climax with you.”

 

John flushes as the detective reaches forward and unzips his trousers, pulling them down to the floor along with his pants. John’s erection flushes brilliantly against his skin, and he automatically bucks his hips as soon as Sherlock’s long fingers enclose around it. 

 

“Sit down on my lap,” Sherlock purrs, and John obliges, both hissing at the touching of their cocks. Sherlock reaches into the cushions of his chair to pull out a small bottle, and John’s face displays an expression of confusion and wonder.

 

“What, you don’t think I get off while you’re not here? I told you, sometimes your deductions just make me so incredibly aroused.” He smirks and John lets out a laugh. The detective pours a generous amount of lube onto his hand, and Sherlock opens his hand up once more and encloses them around both cocks, moving up and down in a steady motion. Both men groan in pleasure, and Sherlock once again throws his head back, eyes fluttering. John can’t help but rut against Sherlock’s hand, the gentle sliding creating a feeling of pure ecstasy.

 

“Fuck, Sherlock,” John groans. Sherlock’s hand picks up a faster rhythm, and John feels the heat pooling in his stomach. His breathing becomes more shallow and the sounds that Sherlock is making is music to his own ears. 

 

“John, I’m-”

 

“Me too, just keep going.”

 

Sherlock’s hand picks up an even faster rhythm, and John leans in to press his lips to Sherlock. 

 

“Sherlock!” John gasps. “Fuck, I love you!”

 

Sherlock, at the words, shudders as his orgasm reaches, letting out a string of curses as he jolts, come spurting all over his hand and John’s cock, with John reaching his own climax moments after. John groans as his hips buck against his own control, riding out the wave of his orgasm. His eyes squeeze shut, tears forming as stars overtake his vision in pure pleasure. His lips find Sherlock’s neck and he sucks another hickey into it as the two come off of their intense release. He pulls away and stares into Sherlock’s eyes, still wide. Sherlock’s face is flushed, swollen to perfection.

 

“John,” Sherlock breathes. “I love you too.”

 

John smiles warmly as his thumb traces Sherlock’s cheekbone. “Why did we wait so long to do that? That was easily the most intense orgasm I’ve ever had.”

 

“Because if you had my deduction skills, you would have deduced that I was into you from the moment I met you.”

 

John cocks an eyebrow. “But you have your skills, surely you knew about my feelings for you?”

 

“Nope. Not until moments ago did I realize. I let my emotions, my own vulnerability of my attraction to you mask the fact that you were actually attracted to me as well.” Sherlock simply states, his eyes unblinking.

 

John chuckles as he gets off of Sherlock’s lap, grabbing a flannel. He returns and wipe the two of them down. “Well, every expert has their off days.”

 

“More like off years.” Sherlock mutters, and John leans in once more to seal themselves in a bruising kiss.

 

“You’re amazing with Rosie, you’re amazing with me.” John smiles as his thumb traces Sherlock’s face. “I want to be with you, for as long as I can.”

 

“I would enjoy that.”

 

“No more dancing around. No more. It’s just you, me, and the baby. Against the world.” John kisses Sherlock’s forehead.

 

“Against the world.” Sherlock repeats, and he lifts his head to meet John’s lips once more, his hand cupping John’s cheek gently.

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments are highly appreciated, thank you!


End file.
